


Father Knows Best

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 17:31:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14753243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When loose talk leads to a misunderstanding, Meghada's father and older brother decide to take a hand, well, along with an opportunity to take a closer look at a certain Cockney pickpocket.   Just when they thought everything had been resolved satisfactorily, another member of the family shows up to create unforseen complications.  Will Goniff survive the encounters?  Physically, probably; mentally - well, that was the question!   After all, he's just a simple guy looking for a simple, uncomplicated life - just ask him!!





	Father Knows Best

**Author's Note:**

> The last part contains some mild intimacy Any who find that uncomfortable might want to stop at the Warning within the story.

The Beginning:  
It had started out a good outing at The Doves. No, Meghada hadn't been there, she was off somewhere, probably somewhere that Major Richards had sent her, and he'd be beyond pleased when that came to an end; he worried about her, he did, but still, it was turning into a good evening. The Warden had been called to London, they'd waited til things settled down and pushed back those bars in the Common Room and shinnied down the big tree outside. A fast pace to the side wall, up and over, and it was no time til they were settled in a corner table. Even the initial advent of the brace of young soldiers from the Base hadn't spoiled it; unlike some of the visitors from the military base, they hadn't been aiming for trouble, just a pint and mixing with the local girls. They were at the table just next to the guys, though, and the conversation was loud, and interesting enough to catch his attention.

He'd not heard the term before, 'pity fuck', but one of the soldiers, one with his arm in a sling, was laughing and regaling the others with his experiences since he'd been injured. Seemingly his success with the birds had improved ten-fold, now he had that sling, even though he'd gotten it when a jack had slipped in the motor pool; acourse, that's not what he told the birds, he laughed to his mates. No, he'd been hurt doing some grand daring-do for the military, very hush-hush, couldn't give them any details, and they'd been very impressed. He recounted a couple of the experiences, and one of the other soldiers, a Yank, had agreed, "yeah, some of them, they've got a lot of the old Florence Nightingale in them; turn their noses up at a guy ten ways from Sunday, but let him get hurt and needy, and they get all soft and warm and next thing you know, you're looking for the closest cozy spot away from the crowd, you know??" One of the others cautioned the one telling the original story, "well, that only works the once, you know. Try for another little round with the same bird, and they'll hand you your head, think you're taking advantage of the situation!" and they'd all laughed and agreed.

Casino poked him in the arm, "Hey, ya wanna nother pint?" and so brought his attention back to his own table. By the time the beer arrived, the soldiers had gone, and he sat back to think over what he'd heard.

"Is that right, Casino, what they were talking about?" he asked, figuring his friend would probably know, what with being a one to work all the angles, especially with the skirts. Well, so was Actor, but somehow he doubted the word 'pity' had ever been part of the activities of Actor and his seemingly endless litany of women.

"Is what right, Limey?" Casino asked, not having paid any attention at all to the conversation of the group at the next table, and after a couple, three beers, not so much to the conversation at his OWN table.

"Nevermind, I forgot w'at I was gonna ask," he said, realizing any questions he asked would end up revealing too much of what had happened, and that wouldn't be right. That, what she'd given him, that'd been a gift, maybe out of pity, maybe not, but still not something to be shared with anyone else; others wouldn't understand even if she'd meant nothing by it, would judge her for it; he'd not have that. Still, he wished there was someone he could talk to about it, only to realize that she was the person he went to anymore when he needed to talk about something serious, and well, he couldn't exactly talk to her about this, now could he? Ask her just why, what it'd meant to her, what it meant for him? If the others noticed he'd been unusually quiet for the rest of the evening, no one said anything about it.

 

Goniff's POV:  
She seemed the same with him, warm and welcoming, ready to let him set the tone for the visits. If she asked how he was doing, made any such inquiry, he was careful to always have a positive answer now, that word, 'pity' seeming always at the forefront of his mind. He made sure to keep a bit of distance, not taking advantage. He realized he'd started keeping his masks on now, when he visited. He saw her looking at him sometimes as if she was puzzled, other times as if she wanted to say something important, but he made sure to make himself look elsewhere, get involved in something else at those times.

He didn't want to have that conversation, was pretty sure what the outcome would be, and, well, he'd always told everyone, he was a bit of a coward and this just proved it; he'd avoid that talk for as long as he could. As long as he didn't know for sure, he could pretend. That it hadn't been pity, that it had actually meant something different. That her calling him 'love' had been more than a casual endearment. As long as he could pretend, he could still come here, listen to her sing, talk with her, share in the peace she and the Cottage brought him, dream a bit about it being real. He was pretty sure he'd not be coming back to the Cottage after it was over, that talk, and he didn't know how he'd bear that when the time came. 

Meghada's POV -  
He kept his distance now, still visiting, still ready for music, some of the reading they did now, for sitting in the garden, but it was like there was a cushion of air between them. The masks didn't get taken off, placed in that handy basket by the kitchen door any more. It hurt, there was no doubt. At first she tried to approach him to see if she could get him to talk about it, but when she'd get the notion, he could tell and would play least-in-sight. She wondered, she worried. She wondered, a bit heart-sick, if her actions that morning had given him a disgust, or a disdain of her; although he'd seemed quite content with her actions that morning, to put it mildly, well, afterwards maybe he'd thought differently about it, about her. He still visited, there was that much, and sometimes it was almost as it had been, but other times, that distance between them sat there, almost visible in the air, and she grieved for it.

The Parents' POV

The letter from Sheila Riley arrived with the mailbag for the enclave, and Felane sat down for a cozy read from her old friend, expecting more stories and gossip from the small village Sheila and AJ now lived in at the behest of the Clan. Surely she learned more from Sheila than she would directly from her second oldest daughter! Meghada had never been one for writing down her feelings, sharing her troubles with them, unlike their other daughters.

She sat the letter down with a frown now, thinking over what she'd read. Sheila was a downy one, a good head on her shoulders, and if she thought there was a problem, then there was sure to be one.

Lupan came in from the kennels, paused to wash his hands and face at the sink, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Any time his entrance wasn't greeted with a smile, and outstretched arms, he knew there was trouble brewing; it'd always been like that with them, well, almost from the start, that knowing. He poured a cup of coffee, with a look over at her, poured a second one and sat down across from her, pushing her cup to within her easy reach. "And?" with an arched brow.

She started, looked up at him, and gave him a belated smile, "I'm sorry, I was a bit absorbed; letter from Sheila, and it seems our girl has wrapped herself in a tangle. It got me thinking back to our early days, remember, when we came up cross-wise to each other as often as not, before we figured ourselves out," she chuckled.

"The Englishman?" he asked, pretty sure, but checking; sometimes the girls lost him, especially this one, their Dragon.

"Yes, Sheila says all seemed to be coming along nicely, then all of a sudden, they're not quite right; she doesn't know the cause, but she's a bit worried. Meghada, being warrior trained, she got left out of some of the more basic training, the time being needed for things in her own field. I never thought about it before, but she also got left out of some of the sharing the others her age had, between themselves and with the older women, her being away on contracts so early and for so long. It might just be something simple, but something she just doesn't know quite how to deal with. And the laddie, Sheila says he has a bit of a problem of his own, between his background, and how he sees himself, how he's accustomed to others seeing him; seems I remember someone else who had difficulty seeing his own worth," she teased with a very warm look across the table. "Someone who kept looking at himself through the eyes of the Outlanders, not seeing how the Clan, a woman of the Clan might view him."

Lupan looked at her, a wry grin on his bronzed face, "well, even being Clan related, with some little knowledge, it's hard to get it through your head, that difference. I can't even imagine how hard it would have been if I'd been totally in the dark about the whole thing. What do we know about him, Felane? Tell me, help me see him more clearly," he suggested, and she did. He sat, thought, and finally nodded. "Yes, I can see it, and I'd not be surprised if he's not a one to keep his thoughts bottled up tight, as well. You would, with that background; it wouldn't be safe otherwise. It's bound to be harder when both are like that; with us, at least you'd been stubborn enough to back me in a corner and make me talk to you!"

"I was ready to beat you about the head til you stopped acting so damned noble, if that's what you mean!" she laughed, with an amused shake of her head. "If I'd heard one more time, 'it's for the best, little wolf', 'you can do much better, girl', 'you don't understand, I'm not fit for someone like you', 'just wait, in time you'll find the right man'.

Then, with a serious frown, "Lupan, what made you change your mind, finally? What made you take the chance?" He sat, thought, and remembered that conversation.

Finally, "it was Alan," and she responded with a started look, "my brother?"

"Yes, he finally sat me down and explained that you'd chosen me, that it wasn't like if I went away you'd find someone else; that it didn't work that way. Well, I should have known that from my dealings with the Clan, but I guess I never thought about it that closely before, not in connection with US. Said you'd not push," and he gave an amused hmmpphh! "little did he know!"

"That if I truly didn't want you, well, that was just cause for me denying you, but I needed to understand that the need, the loving, the hunger you felt for me wouldn't go away, would just be locked up somewhere inside you, could not be transferred to someone else. He told me that if it wasn't me, there'd be no one else; asked me if my pride, my stubbornness was worth it, leaving you to a life alone, with all that richness, that promise, waiting inside."

He looked down at the table for awhile, then back to her waiting face, "I'd been willing to accept that for me, knowing you were the one I needed, but thinking you'd be better off choosing elsewhere. Having him tell me that, knowing I'd be making us both live a life alone, that's what changed my mind; knowing I didn't want that for you, that it just didn't make sense anymore. That's what made it was worth the risk, made me willing to take the chance, give us the chance."

They sat together, comfortable in the silence, letting their thoughts go where they would. Finally, he said, consideringly, "I think young Max is ready for a new home; didn't you say she was looking for someone like Estelle?"

"Yes, but she still has a bit on that contract, she'd not be home full time yet to care for him. Of course, Sheila would be willing to take him on during those times, I'd think. What are you thinking, my love?"

"Well, he's bred out of my kennel, I had the training of him, seems it would only be right I'd be the one delivering him to her, don't you think? She might be a bit surprised at him, what with Estelle being one of the large ones, but these new small ones are working out very well, and with the rationing and such, she'd have a time trying to keep one of the wolfhounds in meat. Do you think that might answer, me taking him there, seeing how things are, maybe sticking a finger in their pie, stirring it around a bit?"

"Well, better than me; she's always taken advice, even interference better from you than from me," with an agreeing nod, "and that might just do the trick, and no one to know how to do it better! If you can find a way to remind her that she may have to fight for him, even against himself, men being sometimes stubborn willfull creatures," this with a sly look at him, "and finding a way to let him work himself out of whatever box he's gotten himself into; yes, it might just answer. When will you leave?"

"As soon as you can get confirmation from that pet Major Richards of yours that both of them will be there for a bit," he declared, "no sense leaving it and letting the distance grow any greater. The question is, do I try for subtle, or just let the hammer fall?" and she fell back in her chair, laughing. He did subtle better than the rest of the family, but it was far from a textbook definition still.

"And what did you have in mind for a hammer?" she asked, with a shake of her head.

"Just what is the Clan token one would give someone who's 'tamed the Dragon'?" he asked with a sly grin, and her mouth dropped open in shock. She was almost afraid of what he would consider subtle; that was so far beyond a 'hammer', more like a pile driver, she had to wonder.

That reminded her of one piece of advice she wanted him to take to their daughter, and he stared at her, it now being his turn to laugh long and hard. "I thought we were trying to get them back together; I'm not sure that's going to be particularly helpful!" but agreed to do as she asked. He shook his head at the thought, {"so she's to be sure to show him her temper before they go too much farther! Poor man!"}. He raised this daughter; he knew exactly what that could entail!

***

Word came to the Mansion by way of one of the guards, Leesome, one of the newer ones; he had been assigned here as a disciplinary measure and accordingly was not well dispositioned toward them. Somehow, since guarding them had been his punishment, then his misery was all their fault, and he used any opportunity to share a little of that misery with them.

"Hope the Lieutenant has the sense to keep those cons of his away from the O'Donnell cottage," was overheard; he was supposedly talking to the Sergeant Major, but he made sure the guys were within close earshot; "she has company that's arrived yesterday, and the last thing she'd want is one of this lot showing up on her doorstep!"

Sergeant Major wasn't one for gossiping, but he now tried to keep an eye out for the men, and he had a fondness for the O'Donnell girl as well. "And what might that mean, Private? Seems it's her business who she welcomes there," he said sternly.

"Well, the cottage is on the outskirts; unless someone sat themselves up to watch, doubt anyone'd know anything!" the Sergeant Major said with a frown. "And it's not your place to be gossiping about her and her visitors, and I'd suggest you keep your mind on your own business!" He turned, and was dismayed to see the cons standing so close by, {"well, hopefully, that did no harm, but I've a suspicion it might have,"} seeing the faintly forlorn look about the small pickpocket and a frown on the faces of the others. He hurried them off to the firing range, where they'd been headed before he'd been interrupted, and for once failed to make any rude comments about Goniff's accuracy, or lack thereof. He simply didn't have the heart.

***  
The Siblings:

He'd arrived on foot at the Cottage, leaving his car at the local pub, wanting to surprise her. From the glad cries, and laughter, and wild protestations of missing him and such, he certainly succeeded.

He'd been in London, making his way back from a too long soujourn in the southern enclaves, and had been able to spend a night with Ciena, catching up on all the news. When he mentioned his two-day stay with their parents, and the talk he'd heard, she suggested it might be wise for him to visit Meghada and slip her a word. Having either of their parents arrive unexpectedly, well, just better that it didn't happen, perhaps. Not to tamper with their father's visit, or his intentions, no, Ciena agreed that something needed to be done, but just to perhaps let their sister be a bit prepared, she said.

Well, he'd have to agree; he'd heard enough to know that there was tampering enough in the forecast, and considering his sister's temper, a warning might be in order. Though, as he'd told Ciena, if the situation had gotten all twisted around, and if the cause was what Mrs. Riley and the parents thought, seemingly their father would be the best one to try to ease things back into a better direction. He shared what he'd heard at home, now knowing more than he ever had before about the courtship between their parents, and Ciena had to agree, there were similarities, certainly. She wanted this to work; Meghada had truly lost her heart to this man, and she rather thought it was the same for him, but it could easily go astray if it went wrong this early on. Not only their own hesitations and experiences, but the war, the contracts both were under, all could prove dangerous to this growing relationship, and she thought it was one well worth fighting for. Indeed, she worried deeply about her sister, if this was lost.

She did laugh at the piece of advice from their mother; oh, she would like to be there, a fly on the wall when that happened. According to Michael, Felane said their father was to relay the message, "if he's never seen that temper of yours, and I don't mean your being angry at someone else, especially on his behalf or the team's, I mean you, in a temper, with him, then I suggest you show him that before you settle in together. Otherwise, he may never recover from the shock, poor lad; better do it up front!" Well, Ciena had to agree. Meghada didn't have the worst temper of the sisters; well, being warrior trained, she wouldn't have; but it was still rather remarkable. Yes, she'd like to see his face when she finally let fly!

Over coffee the next morning, seated beside his next-youngest sister, he took a deep breath and started. He was surprised at her easy acceptance; that alone told him she was deeply troubled by this new divide, that she was willing to share with him, later with their father, seeking their advice, their help. He was more than a little shocked at the look of desolation in her eyes when she spoke of losing him, of her somehow offending him, perhaps, with him moving away from her, when he'd come to be such a part of her life.

He spent the day with her, and in the evening, she took him to The Doves. As they entered, the sudden quiet that filled the room, the eager, watchful eyes on them, made her aware that his overnight visit had not gone unremarked in the village. Thinking back, of course, she knew it couldn't have. Doby, the village pest, was licking his lips in anticipation, and she caught that little movement. {"Doby is almost drooling, nasty malicious little bastard that he is!"} Still, the silence at the table where the men sat, the watchful slightly chilly appraising eyes, the sight of Goniff looking for a way out of the room to avoid this meeting, made her take a deep breath.

"Ready to meet him, meet his team?" she asked, with an upwards glance at her eldest brother. Looking at him with objective eyes, she could see the problem; on the taller side, husky and dark like their father, but with hair, although almost black, showing auburn highlights; a handsome one, she thought, though not to her tastes; seems she had found in herself a weakness for slight pale blond wiry types.

With a wide smile he murmured, "more than ready, little sister. Do I play the heavy, the concerned big brother, or earnest friendly fellow?" he teased.

She frowned up at him, warningly, "you just behave yourself!" 

None of the men ever sat with their backs totally to the entrance, old habits mixed with new, so they all had a good look at the couple coming in.

"Shit!" Casino muttered under his breath, casting a quick glance over at Goniff, then at his other two team mates. {"Poor bastard don't stand a chance, not up against that. Probably never did in the first place. She likes the little Limey, yeah, but I always figured it was kinda like a kid brother, even if she is a lot younger than him, or maybe some skinny stray pup that needed to be fed and petted, but for him, can't be easy to get yer nose rubbed in it like this!"}

"Right about one thing," Chief growled, "seems she's happy enough for him to be here." He watched the open play of emotions on his teammate's face and winced inside. {"Come on, Goniff. Stop letting it all show. Cant let em see you're hurtin; you know that! You learned that just like I did; they see you bleedin inside, they win!"}

Actor looked resigned; this had seemed a very odd friendship from the first, and he'd been concerned about it turning out poorly. He knew she had a genuine fondness for the little Englishman; she'd more than proved that. However, he couldn't see there being more to it on her side, the disparity between them simply too great. Still, he'd hoped she would have more discretion, perhaps more kindness in displaying such open affection toward another man in the presence of their rather smitten pickpocket.

Goniff was staring, eyes blinking rapidly, searching frantically for the right mask he should be wearing: {"friendly - like she's just a friend, so don't matter if she's 'anging off you like that? Dumb, maybe, like I aint got the brains to see just 'ow much she likes you and you like 'er; too thick to know you spent the night at the Cottage, probably in 'er bed?"} Somehow he couldn't quite pull one of those on no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't use the icy one; he didn't have the right. He had never bothered to craft a jealous one, never had the need, and again, he didn't have the right. He didn't even know what he wanted, needed his mask to show.

And there they were, looking at the table, and they were headed this way, and she had such a bright, pretty, happy smile on her face and he just couldn't . . .

"Blimey!" he moaned, all the gloom of the world echoing in that one word. "Leesome was right; 'e is a right good looking bloke, aint 'e? W'at's that old saying, bout w'at all the girls are looking for? Someone tall, dark and 'andsome?" He sighed, then after a quick look to be sure there really wasn't anyway to get out of the room without her seeing him run, he plastered that all-purpose 'friendly, dumb, helpful, cheerful, eager, clumsy' mask on his face and drew a deep breath and prepared to greet the two approaching their table.

"Hello, then! I thought I might have to drive up to the Mansion to see you all. It's glad I am to see you here; I'd wanted you to meet this stranger," as she patted Michael on the upper arm fondly.

"Michael, this is Goniff, Chief, Actor, Casino," nodding at each of them in turn. "I'd like you to meet my oldest brother, Michael. He's been off traveling for ever so long, and I'd no idea he was back in this part of the world til he appeared out of the blue yesteday."

From the startled looks going around the table, yes, they'd heard of her company, but certainly not realized the relationship. Goniff blinked at her rapidly several times, thinking, considering, {"meets the description we 'eard, but yes, now I've seen 'im, there's a bit of favoring around the eyes, and that touch of the deep red in 'is 'air. Not much like, mind, but she'd mentioned before that while all the sisters looked pretty much alike, the brothers favored their father, and I can certainly see the resemblance to Patrick!"}. He felt something inside him loosen, relax; if what the guard had been saying had been true, he'd have no longer felt welcome at the Cottage; now, perhaps, he still had some time left, at least some.

Michael put himself to the task of fitting in and had no problem doing so. He found he liked these men, so very different though they were from each other. He found himself watching the blond Englishman as he became more relaxed; {"still not at ease with me, think that'd take a lot more time, which unfortunately we don't have with me leaving tomorrow. Still, those looks he gives her when he thinks she's not able to see; the look in her eye when it strays towards him. Yes, this needs to be resolved; it'd be a shame to have it go astray, all that caring, all that needing."} And he proceeded to try and draw him out, this one chosen by his sister, and also to let the conversation drift to where he could bring in things this man might need to know, might need to consider. By the time the evening drew to a pleasant close, he thought he might have done some good, at least paved the way for his parent's visit.

When he left the next day, he asked her, "let me know how it goes, please? I think I rather like him for you," with a smile, and received her relieved hug with a warm laugh.

Father Knows Best:

She was at the Mansion when he arrived, the first warning being the appearance of a flustered Sergeant Major at the door of the Common Room.

"There's a man here to see you, Miss, and he has a creature with him. I told him civilians weren't allowed, and the creature couldn't come in anyroads, but he insisted I come tell you he's here; that you'd make it right!" The Sergeant Major was fond of the young woman, but the thought that her wishes held sway here was one he found disturbing.

"Did he say who he was?" Garrison asked with a frown, to which the Sergeant Major replied, "no, Sir, he just said to give her this, as a gift," and he held up a narrow strip of rawhide, from which hung a 6" ring of woven willow, strung with twine and beads and feathers, with more feathers hanging below. The expression on his face showed just how odd an object he thought it was to be giving as a gift.

"A dream catcher!" Chief burst out in shock.

A look came over her face, one of shock, apprehension, and finally, amused resignation. With a warm slightly rueful laugh, "Sergeant Major, I'd appreciate it if my father and his companion were allowed to come up, with the Lieutenant's permission of course."

"Your father, miss? But, are you sure. . ." and then stopped, blushing to realize how that sounded.

She smiled at his confusion, "yes, Sergeant Major, quite sure, according to my mother anyway, and to see my brothers you'd believe it right enough," shaking her head at his embarrassment. He flushed more, then when Garrison gave the nod, hurried away. They all looked at the woman, at the amused look on her face, and waited.

Goniff was apprehensive; {"wonder if 'e's gotten wind of me, of what 'appened? Well, not what 'appened then, of course, no way 'e could 'ave, but me spending so much time at the Cottage. Mayhap 'er brother said something. Mayhap 'e's some annoyed at that, come to put a stop to it,"} he thought morosely.

Meghada caught a look at his face, and wondered just what was he thinking. {"Maybe the thoughts of any man at the appearance of the father of someone he's been spending considerable time with? Thinking what, that he's about to meet up with a shotgun, or maybe with a good swift boot? Hmmm, wonder if either of those would actually work?! I'm close to giving either a try, I'm that desperate!!"} She waited now, starting to get tense at the upcoming meeting. Things were already going sideways, she just hoped this didn't make it worse.

He appeared at the door of the Common Room, a husky man of more than medium height, dressed in denim jeans and jacket, blue chambrey shirt, thick black hair in one long braid hanging over his shoulder to the front, reaching to his waist, skin the color of bronze, his features those of the American Southwest tribes. He had a small black and white dog at his side, and a small parcel dangling from his fingers.

"Daughter," he intoned solemnly, nodding his head, then letting a wide smile cross his face, holding out his arms to catch her as she threw herself into them, laughing.

"I can't believe it, first Michael, now you! And," bending toward the small dog, sitting, waiting patiently, "and who's this, might I ask?"

"That's Max, and the answer to your prayers, I think," looking with amusement at the raised eyebrows that greeted that statement. "But, later for that. I know you have manners, I recall your mother teaching them to you, not particularly successfully perhaps, wild child that you were, but I remember her trying, at least. Perhaps introductions?" he reminded her with a stilted arch of just one brow.

She flushed, and laughed, and turned, nodding at each man in turn, "Lieutenant Garrison, Goniff, Actor, Chief, Casino - my father, Nantan Lupan, and of course, Max," looking down at the small dog now sitting at her feet. Hands were shaken, he made it clear that they were to call him simply Lupan, and they settled down to get to know each other. 

"You asked about Max, and truth be told, he's a large part of why I'm here. I heard you needed Estelle's help recently, and that you felt strongly that you needed someone like her here with you, just in case any of your own go missing again. I immediately thought of Max."

All of them took note of that wording, and Goniff and Casino looked at each other, remembering. They'd gone together and arranged, through Meghada, for the purchase of a fine new collar for Estelle, complete with a truly magnificent beef bone, in thanks for her part in that affair.

"No offense, but 'e don't hardly look like Estelle," Goniff ventured, to a good all round laugh from those gathered. This small dog probably weighed in the area of twenty, twenty-five pounds at the most; Estelle closer to a hundred and thirty or more.

"True, but I raise and train scent and sight hounds of various breeds; Estelle came from my kennels, and I had the training of her. I'd thought at first to bring up one of the newly trained ones from her line, but under the circumstances, thought one of my others might serve even better. Max, here, well he has the same talents as Estelle and her crew, he's just as capable, he's just smaller, easier to keep fed in these times, easier to house in a smaller space. I know you've the last of that contract to get through, and are not always here, but I think Mrs. Riley, maybe some of your friends here, might lend a hand when you're gone, and someone like Max, that might be easier on them as well rather than one of the largest ones. He'll bond with you, with a selected few you introduce him to, but he'll probably continue to be a bit standoffish with any others; that's how he's trained, after all. He'll follow the faintest of trails, and if it's one of those you've let him bond with, he'll follow them into hell itself, if need be." The look he gave her, let her know he understood that was beyond important for her!

Then, in the old tongue, one only his daughter and Chief understood, though Chief didn't let it be known that he understood, #"Size doesn't affect skill or courage or worth, as you seem to know, daughter. I think you'll find him to suit you quite well,"# he smiled at her with some satisfaction.

She looked at her father, emotions struggling within her, at least part was amusement at that statement about size, and the 'find him to suit you'; she knew him well enough to know that was quite deliberate on his part, and for him, was rather subtle. That, she knew, wasn't one of his strong points; she should know, it wasn't much of a Clan attribute in the first place, certainly not one she'd any talent for!

She knelt down, extended a hand, "Max, it's a pleasure to know you, and it's most welcome you'll be," to be answered by a hasty lick to her cheek and an energetic wiggle. Everyone laughed, and she settled down, with the small dog nestled beside her at her feet. She excused herself later, at a suggestion from her father, to take him for a long walk, leaving the men behind to become accustomed to each other. She rather though Max might not be only part of the reason for her father's visit, and offered up a few prayers for a good outcome. 

He found himself enjoying this company of men, getting only good feelings from them, and also finding himself slightly amused at the visible apprehension by the Englishman. {"Well, I can understand that, right enough, with me following so close on Michael's heels, especially; the sudden appearance of Felane's brother, Alan, had put me on alert, I remember that."} He didn't try to judge the younger man, didn't try to see what his daughter saw in him; it was enough that she did see that which she valued, that she wanted him for her own above all others. If he'd learned nothing else during his years with the Clan proper, with Felane, he'd learned that the heart of a Clanswoman was a law onto itself, neither asking or accepting judgement from anyone else. So be it; she wanted this man, she gauged him worthy of her, that was enough for him, just as it had been enough for her mother all those years ago.

Gradually, ever so slowly, he urged the conversation in the direction he needed it to go. Finally, the opening, the question about the dream catcher allowed him to recite a bit of his own history, being sure to let the similarities show through it all.

"I learned to make them on the reservation when I was growing up. I was raised Apache, had more Apache blood than anything else, but I was also of Clan blood, at least a few generations past. My grandfather was the son of an O'Donnell mother, herself having some Apache blood from a couple of not so distant ancestors, and a Scots father; he trained as a doctor and traveled to America, eventually making the journey West. He met my grandmother when he was working with the Apache, met and married her. They had contact with the Clan, but when he died, and then she did, her parents took in their children, my father included; they didn't deny the Clan access, but my understanding was that my father was well content with his life and didn't want to leave. He married inside the tribe, my sister and I the only children , and we were raised with the tribe as well, though the Clan made a point of keeping contact, keeping up the connection, and my parents accepted and encouraged that. They all arranged for us to meet our 'cousins', attend the gatherings, take what training we wanted to that they offered, for they were most generous in that."

"I met Felane at a Clan gathering, and the likeness of our names provided great amusement, I think, and caught each other's attention." He looked around at them, wryly, "my name means Grey Wolf in Apache, hers means Little She-Wolf in Celt, harking back to far ancestors on our part. Anyway, our paths crossed for some time; she was ten when we met, and I was twenty two, but by the time she was thirteen and I was twenty-five, she'd decided I was the one she wanted." He paused, looking around at the men, seeing the stunned looks on their faces, knowing this was nothing they'd not probably heard before, this early maturity of the Clanswomen, but coming from the man involved, it struck home more fervently, coming from a different perspective.

"I fought it for some time; I'd been raised outside of the Clan, and in the outside world, thirteen was a child, even on the reservation," looking around, shaking his head, " 'jail-bait' I think the term is these days. And, with me being Indian, with her being white, at least to the casual observer, well," with a solemn exchange of looks with Chief, "you know how most would view anything like that, nevermind the age difference! Where I came from, that alone, me being Indian, that would have made any future between us impossible, would have meant imprisonment for me, the laws being what they were, and ostracization, shunning for her." He frowned, thinking back, considering how much to tell, how to tell it.

"I spent much of a summer and an entire fall trying to dissuade her, telling her she had her whole life ahead, she'd meet someone she wanted more, someone better suited." He shook his head in some deep emotion, then looked around at each of them.

"Have you ever tried to convince anyone of this family of anything???! Especially the females??! If there is a word a world beyond 'stubborn', then you're headed in the right direction!" to be answered by a few wry chuckles, and a look of total understanding on the small pale man across from him.

"I was prepared to leave, head back to Arizona, leave her behind, never to return, though it tore at me to do so, she had such a hold on my heart. It took her oldest brother, Alan, sitting me down and setting me straight, reminding me of what I knew about the Clanswomen, but refused to consider in relation to her, my Felane. That a woman of the Clan, well, they, they didn't do any of the things the outside world seems to consider appropriate or usual - they didn't 'try someone on for size', didn't 'date', if that's the current term, didn't 'experiment', didn't have 'affairs' or 'one night stands', or anything of that sort. That a woman of the Clan willingly offers NOTHING!, gives NOTHING! unless she was willing to give EVERYTHING!." Yes, he saw that shock, that awareness in the face, the posture of the wiry blond across the table from him that told him that, indeed, something had been offered, been given.

"That once a woman of the Clan decided who they'd accept, for whatever reasons, well, that was the end of it. They would accept no other as a primary partner. That I was not obliged to accept her, certainly, I could go my merry way, and certainly should, if I had no love in my heart for her; no sense in both of us being unhappy, he said, but that I needed to understand that she'd not chose anyone else, not for her lifetime. You know, I'd been willing to give her up, let her go her own way, have her wait for someone better suited, even though she was all I wanted. But, knowing that she wouldn't, that all I'd be doing was to cause both of us a lifetime of misery alone, well, that changed everything." His broad face was solemn as he finished.

He nodded, "we talked it out," then he looked at each of them, a wonderful grin slowly crossing his face, inviting them to share the joke. Then he laughed loudly, and admitted, "well, I talked, she shrieked at me for being 'endlessly stupid and stubborn, with a thickness of the head I've never had the sad experience of encountering before!' You know, I'd never heard Apache and English mixed like that, with a Celtic lilt and phrasing! THEN, still shrieking at me, she shifted totally into old Celtic, of which I didn't understand more than one word in ten; I nodded a lot, and we came to an understanding, even without the words playing a part." They laughed along with him, male bonding at its best.

"I stayed with the Clan; well, could hardly go back to the outside considering; we were wed under their laws, and Michael came before she turned fifteen. She says she's never regretted her choice; I know I never have." He shook his head, in wonder now, thinking back over the years.

"We've a good life together, though it came with a fair amount of learning each other, making adjustments, but I'd not trade it for any other. She never undertook any of the contracts, being too busy with the babies, and only in her late twenties did she handle a few odd jobs for the Clan, never for an extended time. Michael came, then Caeide, Patrick, Meghada, Ciena and Ian, twins, then the last set of twins, Douglas and Coura. I run the kennels, she runs the stables; we've a good life. Sometimes, I think back to how we could have lost it all, if not for her being so stubborn in pursuing me, if Alan hadn't interferred, forcing through my thick head the realities of how a Clanswoman thought, if I hadn't finally stood back and realized and accepted that how she saw me was just as important, no, more important, than how the Outlanders saw me; how I'd let their views flavor how I saw myself, perhaps not to my favor or with any great truth."

He shook his head again, chuckled, and nodded his thanks as Garrison refilled his glass. He glanced across the table at the small Englishman, seeing wry understanding, possibly acceptance, and upon getting an upraised glass in appreciation, accompanied by a slight lift at the corner of that wide expressive mouth, gave a smile and returned the gesture. If anyone else around the table had appreciated what had occurred here, he didn't know; it was only important that this man, the man his daughter had chosen, understood what was at stake, his choices, and might now make an honest decision. That was well worth the journey, the being away from his Felane for this time. Soon, once there was private time, he'd hand over the token, the collar that bespoke of a 'Dragon Claimed and Tamed'. He chuckled at how that would go over, and wished them much joy of that encounter.

They went back to the Cottage in silence, and upon entering, upon his being shown to the guest quarters, she finally spoke, "thank you, father," knowing what he had attempted, hoping against all hope that he'd succeeded.

"Well, I know I almost lost it all, and perhaps would have, had your uncle not stepped forward to kick me squarely in the arse and let me know I was being a fool," he laughed. When she didn't laugh, but he saw the tears in her eyes shining in the moonlight, he folded her into his arms. "I think any man worthy of your love will be able to figure it out, at least after a little encouragement." And then, holding back his smirk, relayed her mother's advice, and after she stared at him, appalled, they laughed together.

And they each sought their beds, him to dream of his Felane, her to dream of her Englishman. And at the Mansion, one man laid awake on his narrow cot, thinking of what he'd heard, re-thinking all that had occurred, re-thinking his understanding of how things were, how they might be.

 

*****

She shrieked at him, losing all control. His eyes were wide, his mouth wanted to gape at her, astonished at this explosion of temper, her unrelenting fury. Yes, he'd known she had a temper, but this? There had to be a better word than 'temper', there just had to be!

"A PITY-FUCK??!" She was sputtering, unable to comprehend his somewhat hesitant explanation of the past period of misery. "You overhear some misbegotten Sons of Adam talking about a PITY-FUCK and your first thought is of ME??!" She was seriously considering hitting him, and she turned away and strode rapidly down the center garden path to prevent her self from doing so. She reached the sundial in the center, turned round and stormed back, "A PITY-FUCK??!"

By now, he was over his astonishment and was well into hilarious laughter at her response. {"Cor, should have just asked 'er at the beginning; this response would've been enough to convince me, no doubt. I think she might actually be coming on to foaming at the mouth!"}

He grabbed her, and pulled her down the path, into the cottage, leaned her gently into the wall where he looked at her, still fuming and raging at him, and he stilled. It wasn't funny anymore, he wasn't amused, he was having problems breathing, and it took all that was within him to ask her, "are you sure, Meghada? You've got to be sure, I don't think I can 'andle going through this again, it near tore me apart it did! You tell me you're sure, I'll accept that, I'll try never to doubt it again; it ain't easy, I can't see how it can be, but I'll try, but if you're not, you've got to let me know!"

She quieted, not calmed, but quieted, seeing the intensity, the anguish in his eyes, and she squeezed her eyes closed tightly, opening them to show the tears, moving close to lay one palm gently against the side of his face, "Love, no matter what else, that I'm sure of. There's no one else, not for me, only you! And I can assure you, PITY has nothing to do with it!" And if it hadn't been for the ringing of the phone, the summons from Garrison for immediate departure on another mission, they'd probably have ended up celebrating their new understanding. But, the war, as always, made its presence know, and they had to bide their time, as always.

He'd wait til a better time to show her what her father had left with him, the rawhide collar, adorned with beads and feathers, made to her measure, for her to wear showing the world that the dragon had indeed been tamed. {"Cor, I can't wait to show it to 'er, bet she'll 'ave a fit to equal this one! 'The Dragon Tamed'}. Somehow, he doubted that would ever be the case, but 'The Dragon, Claimed', yes, he now believed in that possibility, to the very depths of his being!. 

But things were never quite that simple, and the war, well, it had a way of interferring. She'd hoped for some down time, for both of them, but it was not to be. She had only a month to go on her contract by then, finally, after almost six years. Richards sent her on one more mission, then there was a Calling-In from the Clan to deal with.

When she returned, her bondage was officially over; she was delighted to see the team was in residence, but frustrated to find both they and she had company! This was not how she wanted to spend her time! Her old voice teacher, Clan Friend, finally Clan Family, and newly revealed, old friend of Actor, in one of his many incarnations had shown up out of the blue, and Neal Hargroves had somehow wrangled an evening in the Library with Actor and Garrison, with the others hanging out in the Common Room. She was expected to join them, though she'd much have preferred to spend her time exploring the possibilities with her blond Englishman, with a drink and deck of cards perhaps, well, at least to start. She had a smile on her face as she considered other possibilities.

She was very fond of Neal, always had been, though she was frequently exasperated with him in her youth, with his unrelenting pressure to make music her career. He'd never understood that her very love of music precluded that, especially since the 'voice' or 'voices', for that matter, that he wanted her to use, the ones that were 'commercially viable' were what she thought of as her mimic voices, not her real voice. Trying to explain to him that love songs, like lullabies, should be sung in your own voice, to the intended recipient, met with a blank stare; of all people, she'd that thought that HE would have understood that! An incident when she was eleven finally made him give up his pushing, and she'd liked him much more since then. 

Now, along with reminiscing with Actor, it seemed he was determined to show her off. The library contained a piano that she and Lynn together had arranged to have tuned; at Neal's request, she had brought her guitar. She didn't mind a song or two, but it looked like she was turning into the night's entertainment. She didn't like that, especially didn't like that Goniff, Chief and Casino seemingly had been relegated to the Common Room, no invitation to join them, just Neal gathering Actor to him, along with Garrison and guiding them to the Library, "for a cozy chat." All in all, she was feeling a bit stubborn about the whole thing; if she had to sing, surely she should be allowed to sing for the one person she actually liked singing to!

She had sung several songs, the ones Neal preferred, and, feeling his close presence, looked up to see Goniff had slid in thru the door, now sitting on the floor stretched out, back against the wall, one leg full out, other bent at the knee, his favored pose. Drink and ashtray at his side, inevitable cigarette in his hand resting on his upbent knee, he was watching her morosely, not a trace of a smile. His head was tilted back, watching her, watching the room from under his sandy lashes. {"This is upsetting him badly for some reason, that cheery, friendly mask is nowhere in sight; this is a deadly serious man, and not a happy one! I could be a little frightened of him, if I didn't know him so well. As it is, he makes me tremble just a bit more than usual! Sometimes I don't know which tempts, excites me more, which of his two sides, no, his many sides. But I've not met one that didn't, at some level."} And she shook her head in wonder at that, she'd who'd never had anyone tempt her, not at any level, before him. Within minutes, Chief and Casino appeared at the doorway, and settled in chairs toward the wall, unnoticed by anyone except perhaps her.

Neal was holding forth. "She was always talented, even as a young child. I was considered a Friend of the family, worked with her when I was in residence, sent her music when I was gone, pressed the family to endorse the idea of a career for her. She wanted no part of that, but she did enjoy the music so I guess she put up with my interferring. She was writing music by the time she was eight; a polished singer by the time she was just a bit older. I finally gave up on pressing her though, when she . . . Well, I guess you could say she saved my life, in a way."

He gave a wry smile, "there is something humbling about having that happen, you know, especially when your savior is a child and you weren't aware you NEEDED saving. At the time, I had been involved in a rather complicated relationship with one of her mother's siblings, one of those on again, off again things, where though the emotions were real, we seemed to spend as much time at odds with each other as in charity with one another. Never on the same page, as to what we wanted, when we wanted it. One of us would decide on settling down, setting up housekeeping together, the other would be on a wild tear about their career; then it was switch, back and forth. That had gone on for about five years, when we both attended the celebration of Meghada's eleventh birthday. We were together, but on the verge of splitting up again, oh it was obvious, we'd been sniping at each other all weekend. Anyway, we were both in the room, along with a goodly number of the family, when she walked over and thanked us for coming, and for her birthday present. Well, we'd gotten her one, of course, but hadn't given it to her yet. We told her that, and she said, "Oh, but you gave me a new song, the two of you. That's always the best kind of present! Would you like to hear it?" "Of course, we said yes, her songs were always well received; she took to the piano and sang us her latest composition."

"It was a very uncomfortable song, and believe me, from the look she gave the two of us as she started, she'd meant it to be exactly that way! music slightly discordant, words a little jarring in cadence, but highly, shall we say, effective. She sang of two lovers, never on the same page, and how one came to realize the other was the only one for them, and started to make an entrance, with all the right words, to magniminiously declare Now I'm Ready, Now I'm Here, only to find no one waiting, the room empty, the lover having tired of the games, despairing of resolution, gone. The refrain left no doubt of her opinion of our actions, our risking all we had in our foolishness. *(I imagine something similar to Send In The Clowns).* The room was in dead silence, everyone knowing just who that song had been intended for; we looked at each other and realized she had the right of it, we were throwing away something good and we were going to lose it forever if we didn't stop and come to grips with it." He paused, took a drink, and shook his head, with a sardonic smile on his face.

Lynn asked, "I gather you worked it out?"

"Oh, yes, we've been together, really together, for eight, going on nine years now, ever since that birthday celebration. I'm officially Family, her Uncle Neal now, on her mother's side, instead of on the Friend side. I owe her, you see."

"So you married her mother's sister and lived happily ever after?" said Actor with a incredulous frown; this didn't match what he remembered of Neal Hargroves.

"No," Neal said with a joyful laugh, "I Bonded with her mother's older brother, David, but we're earnestly working on the happily ever after."

In the startled silence that caught the room, Neal started up again asking her for songs. Goniff spoke up, startling everyone, Neal more than anyone, not realizing he was there, or thinking of any reason why he should be there. "Sing some of the newer ones you wrote, eh?"

Neal exclaimed, though with an odd look at the tense man in khakis sitting on the floor. "You're writing again? How wonderful! Yes, please". 

So she did, not for Neal, but because Goniff asked her to, singing for him and him alone, the ones he'd particularly liked. He sat quietly, nursing that one drink along, going thru several cigarettes, not smiling, just quietly thoughful, withdrawn.

{"Neal, so help me, if this causes problems between us, I'll have your hide!"}.

Neal finally asked her to at least SHOW everyone why he'd wanted her to pursue a musical career, and of course, he picked the most over-the-top, extravagent number possible. She performed it well, as always, but this love song being so, so much, almost operatic, (I'm imagining something like "And This is My Beloved' from Kismet), she couldn't look at her Englishman to gauge his reaction; well, since it wasn't really in what she considered 'her' voice anyway, maybe she was just embarrassed! When she laughed at the end, at the applause, she looked and he was gone, as if he had never been there, glass, ash tray, his own self, gone. The evening lost whatever sparkle it had, and she soon made her excuses and left for the cottage. 

She walked in thru the garden gate, in thru the kitchen door, to catch the tiny glow of a lit cigarette, and the smell of its smoke, mixed with the rich smell of bourbon. Blackout shades in place, the room was in shades of dark and not quite so dark. A shadowy figure was sitting at her kitchen table, staring at nothing, his head turning to watch her as she came in. Not a word did he say, just took another drag off the cigarette, leaned forward to stub it out, and turned his head back towards her.

"Should I ask?" she said very quietly.

"'Ave I been readin' things wrong? Do you want me to leave? Just say so, I'll leave with no bother, that'll be the end to it," came his familiar low rasp of a voice, but with nothing of the cheery clown he tried to pretend to be, tense now, tight, but firm with resolution; she knew he'd do just that, and she would have lost him, just like that, after waiting for him for so very long.

She stopped breathing just for a moment, hearing the very real pain in his voice. To her, tonight had been a somewhat annoying and inconvenient performance for an old teacher. To him, what had it been to him? Proof that she was out of his reach? That her talent showed her future held no place for him? Again, she thought dire thoughts at Neal. This had to stop, tonight; they couldn't keep going through this; somehow, tonight, he had to understand, once and for all. She'd not go through what Neal and David went through for so long, not put him, her love, through that. It ended, now, this uncertainty. Tonight, somehow, she would make him understand.

"No, and No," she smiled lovingly at him, though it was too dark for him to see, surely; she just couldn't help herself. "No, you aren't reading things wrong, not if you're thinking I want you; No, I don't want you to leave, not now, not ever. Is that good enough, clear enough?"

He was on his feet in a flash, chair scraping on the wooden floor, her pinned between him and the kitchen counter, only the barest space between them, his legs parted so she stood between them, hands on the counter on either side of her. Slowly, oh so slowly, he leaned forward to kiss her, taste her lips with his tongue, sliding into her mouth as she whimpered eagerly. This, this was perfection; their heights worked together so well, she just a hair shorter than him, they could kiss without straining, the rest of their bodies promising equally good matching. They continued for a long time, a slow contented learning of each other, in just this one aspect. She remembered him telling her she needed to learn to smoke, just to get used to the taste, since he wasn't likely to give up the habit.

"Told you I didn't need those infernal cigarettes; I want, need to get used to the taste of you, not them. This is a good start," she whispered finally. Then, she tilted her head til she could kiss him, taste him at the base of his ear, then moving slowly down to the side of his neck where it joined his shoulder; he shivered under her touch. "So far, so good," she purred.

His breath was coming faster, "how long will it take before you know?".

She frowned, losing the drift of this conversation, dizzy with the taste, the scent of him, remembering the selkies spoke of getting drunk on the taste of their loves, now better understanding that, "know what? Oh," with a tiny laugh, "well, I have to take a quite a few samples, you know," as she moved to the hollow of his throat, licking, kissing gently, then starting to undo the top of his khaki tunic. "But I have to say, these clothes are going to be a bit in the way; perhaps we might dispense with them, perhaps in the bedroom?" 

** Warning, for those who find the idea or description of even mild intimacy uncomfortable, this would be the place to stop.

**  
Both of those seemed like fine ideas to him, and the bedroom soon saw them settled down together, face to face on the bed, all impediment of clothing long gone, along with any trailing bits of doubt or hesitation. She'd made great progress on her testing, her tasting, down his shoulders, across his chest with its light sprinkling of golden hair, down his ribcage onto his flat stomach, the tops of his hips, and further. She'd made it to the inside of his ankles and was now working her way up his inner thighs. His blond curls were almost as lush as her red ones, and she gently brushed them aside in order to be really thorough for that ultimate tasting, which seemed to be satisfactory for the both of them. They were both breathing heavily, she was soaking wet, he had long since become slick with his own moisture, when he pulled her back up, her face level with his own.

"Well?" he gasped, "do you approve?"

She chuckled, even as she reached for him eagerly, "entirely, love, you passed with flying colors!" They shared a long, deep kiss, when he drew back, breathing as if he'd run the long trail through the obstacle course.

"Well, 'old on, now! Seems I've a right to some testing of my own, just to be sure you suit me! It don't just go in one direction, you know!" he fussed at her, teasingly. She agreed that was indeed his right, and was most patient, well she tried mightily to be patient anyway, although her whimpering may have given her away, as he proved to his satisfaction, and hers, that she indeed met with his approval. In fact, they proved it to themselves and each other several times, in several ways, throughout that night. Smiling to themselves, along toward morning, they agreed that music could be made in more ways than one, and some ways even finer than others, though preferably without an audience. She still intended to give Neal a piece of her mind, though!

He lay there, watching her get dressed, putting her hair back in place, and the words came spilling out.  "W'at 'appened last night . . . ".  He stopped, not knowing how to continue.

She looked over at him, questioningly.  "Was that the beginning of a sentence, machushla, or was it a question?"  She must have sensed his confusion, that he really didn't know the answer to that.  Her smile was a quiet, steady one, "if it was a question, then - What happened last night was that we, you and I, after far too many delays and interruptions and untold interference, you and I made love, sweetly, at great length, and most thoroughly."  He never took his eyes off hers as he considered that carefully.

"Made love.  Not just 'ad sex?"

Her smile teased him then, "well, that was part of it, surely, and well worth the waiting for.  But no, that wasn't the whole of it, not for me, and I think, I hope, not for you either."

That acceptance, that welcome, that was what had always been missing before, and that acknowledgement he'd seen before and envied, he didn't have to wonder about it anymore, for it was finally his.  There had been no holding back last night; he hadn't held back, had allowed himself to be free, to give, to take, to be vocal as he had never allowed himself to be before; there had been no drawing back or shrinking away on her part either, only a mutual joyous sharing in what each had to offer.

Of course, he did have to offer a bit of teasing in return, "then you weren't disappointed?" knowing full well she hadn't been, not with his memories of the night.  Her incredulous look, then her wide grin and chuckle removed any tiny lingering doubt in his mind.

"Well, if you're not sure of THAT, seems we might just have to see if I can't demonstrate my pleasure a little more clearly, a little more thoroughly," and he caught his breath as she slowly started to undo those buttons she'd just fastened not five minutes ago.

He arched one brow as if in consideration, "well, don't see any 'arm in just making sure," and pulled her back down on the bed beside him.  After this round of loving, the latest of the several they'd indulged in since she arrived home last night, she lay back on her pillows and thought about how sweetly he sang, how easy it was to gauge his pleasure, his intensity from the lovely music he shared with her, and she snuggled closer, knowing she'd never tire of this closeness, this sharing, never tire of him and all he brought to her.  

In looking back, he realized the most awkward part of that night and morning had probably been explaining to a thoroughly pissed off Lieutenant Garrison as to why he hadn't shown up til almost lunchtime and why he was really just too exhausted to run the obstacle course.  Somehow that wide grin he couldn't keep off his face throughout all the yelling and lecturing hadn't improved the Warden's disposition, but frankly Goniff was in too mellow a mood to care overly much.  Even the teasing from the guys didn't vanquish that grin, and he would find it creeping back at the oddest times, especially when he thought of that little 'gift' Meghada's father had left with him.


End file.
